Eating with the enemy — US!
Sometime last month, I received an email interview from British/American Simon Majumbar, author and TV personality (Eat My Globe, Cutthroat Kitchen and Iron Chef judge). His opening salvo was: “Why do you think that Filipino food has never received the plaudits of other Southeast Asian cuisines (until now)?” This question was also raised in the article that came out in The Washington Post in April this year (“At long last, Filipino food arrives. What took it so long?” written by Tim Carman) where one of the interviewees, Nicole Ponseca of Maharlika and Jeepney Gastropub in New York, ascribed hiya or shame by the Fil-Ams as the main obstacle to its entry in the mainstream American market.
I’m not gonna tell you what I replied to Majumbar as it might preempt the article he’s writing, but allow me to go back to 2008 when I first met him during his visit to Manila doing research for his book Eat My Globe. In an article written by Carlo Tadiar that appeared in Metro Home magazine (June-August 2008), Majumbar concluded on his short visit here: “I had underestimated Filipino cuisine. It is one of the few undiscovered culinary treasures left in the world, and if the people of the Philippines attacked the marketing (emphasis mine) of their food with the same gusto that they apply to eating it, it could be the next culinary sensation.”
He continued: “The cuisine of the Philippines turned out to be a huge surprise. A meal prepared for me by artist and gourmand Claude Tayag, in Pampanga, now rates as the best of my entire life. In particular was a seafood kare-kare stew made with prawns whose heads you ripped off to allow the fat to dribble into the sauce.”
Americans Anthony Bourdain and Andrew Zimmern predicted pretty much the same thing. It had been primarily a marketing problem from the beginning. I’m not just talking about the lack of government support promoting it, but there was a lack of local pride in proclaiming it to the world.
Don’t get me wrong. We love our food, we eat it every day at home. Yet we will not go out to eat in an upscale Filipino restaurant. The common perception then is “Why eat there, it’s so expensive? Our adobo at home is better.” That attitude has prevailed in the US as well, Fil-Ams themselves “killing” other Fil-Ams, with many upscale Filipino restaurants opening and failing largely due to this mentality. But that was more true, perhaps, a generation or two ago.
As every Filipino knows, ours is probably one of the best cuisines in the world. We love it, we are passionate about it, and we eat it every day. So what gives?
In the current blockbuster movie Heneral Luna, what resonated, nay, reverberated with me loud and clear is its message and its timeless relevance: “Mga kapatid, meron tayong mas malaking kaaway keysa sa mga Amerikano. Ang ating sarili.” (Brothers, we have an enemy bigger than the Americans. Ourselves.) Whether the tragic hero actually uttered those words in real life or not is beside the point. It hits a chord deep in our collective consciousness that everything that ails our country is largely due to our divisiveness — we simply cannot get our act together. And true to the movie’s tagline (“Bayan o sarili?”), we’re not going anywhere until we think of our nation first before ourselves.
Historical inaccuracies aside (liberties or artistic license, let’s call it), Heneral Luna is a tour de force worthy to be on a pedestal for future generations of Filipino filmmakers to emulate, and every Filipino, especially the youth, to watch for cultural and political awakening.
Having watched it three times (I paid for my tickets, mind you), it made me feel particularly proud and honored to belong to the Filipino race, having forefathers who fought and died for our freedom against foreign aggressors we so take for granted today (of another generation, my own father Renato “Katoks” Tayag survived the infamous Death March in 1942,) and feeling, yet again, triple the pride and honor of having seen a classic of a movie during my lifetime made by Filipinos, for Filipinos, and about the struggles of us Filipinos.
Heneral Luna, the movie, has soared way above the sea of mediocrity we live in today — not just Philippine cinema, but the lackluster leadership we are faced with. Just look at the numbers: in 1899, Antonio Luna was 33 years old, Emilio Aguinaldo 30, Apolinario Mabini 35, Gregorio Del Pilar 24, Manuel L. Quezon 21. If we were to be invaded by a foreign aggressor in broad daylight today, more than half of this age bracket would still be deep in slumber after a long night of carousing, or perhaps glued to their computer games. The apathy of today’s youth leaves much to be desired — they should actively participate in shaping their future by being in the present.
There’s the masterful storytelling by Jerrold Tarog, the bravura portrayal of John Arcilla as the tragic hero Antonio Luna, the painterly cinematography, and perfect-to-a-tee casting of brilliant actors in all their roles.
My favorite supporting role is that of Apolinario Mabini, the so-called “brains of the revolution,” perfectly cast and delicately played by Epy Quizon. With limited speaking lines, delivered in an almost nonchalant and calm manner, yet spoken with so much wisdom and authority, Quizon’s underacting had a forceful resonance, as much as the performance of Arcilla. His frailty — dressed immaculately in white, his legs covered with a blanket, and perennially glued to a chair — underscored the precariousness of his role’s physical condition as a polio victim, paralyzed from the waist down. This is the image etched in our collective memories based on extant photographs of the “sublime paralytic.”
The location scout and director of photography did excellent work as well. Unforgettable painterly landscapes, almost like Impressionist paintings of that epoch, as with the train (vagon) ride of Luna and his wounded soldiers, the sweeping aerial shots of the general sitting atop a hill contemplating his fate, and Luna and his men crossing a clear-water river. It is heartening to discover that such breathtaking, pristine scenery still does exist in our countryside.
Two very “artistic” scenes made visual reference to actual paintings by the general’s brother Juan Luna, the first Filipino painter to achieve international acclaim. The first is “The Parisian Life” painted in 1892, depicting the interior of a restaurant showing an unidentified French woman in the foreground by herself, and three men seated on the far left with the likeness of Dr. Jose Rizal, Dr. Ariston Bautista Lin and Juan Luna himself (the original oil painting was purchased by GSIS at an auction in Hong Kong at a then staggering sum of P45.4 million in 2002, but it is nevertheless priceless for its historical importance, repatriated and now hanging at our National Museum); and the “Spoliarium,” Luna’s award-winning entry to the Exposición Nacional de Bellas Artes in 1884 in Madrid, where it won the first gold medal (out of three). It was alluded to in the brutal death of Hen. Luna, when his bloodied lifeless body was dragged, exactly in the way of Luna’s “Spoliarium” with its bloody gladiator cadavers being dragged away from the arena.
THE ELITE’S DINING TABLE
Production designers Benjamin Padero and Carlo Tabije left no stone — or should I say plate — unturned when it came to the food styling. During the “sniper” scene set in the countryside somewhere in Pampanga, an American colonel curses the dinner he is being served: a plate of buro (fermented rice with fish, which the American calls a “rotten” dish), fried dalag (mudfish), boiled eggplant, mustasa or fresh mustard leaves, establishing the locality of the encampment, where all the abovementioned dishes are most typical of everyday Kapampangan fare (pang-aldo-aldo, or pang-araw-araw). In the scene set in a kubo or native’s hut in the countryside, the meal is served in sarten or white enamelware, at that.
In contrast, a party scene shows the sala of an illustrado’s mansion somewhere in Bulacan, where a reception of elite Filipinos is held, showing a center table laden with two creampuff croquembouche (pronounced “crockem bush”) towers, a traditional French wedding cake composed of custard-filled profiteroles, held together with caramelized sugar; plus tocino del cielo, sans rival, and other sweet delicacies Bulacan and Pampanga are known for. It’s a study in contrast — not just class distinction, but what the ordinary folk ate every day against the elite’s special occasion feast, not to mention the gentlemen sipping brandy.
The elite’s dining table is also shown when Luna’s mother has him close his eyes to remember the noche buena or Christmas Eve dinners of his youth in their old house in Binondo. There’s a huge baked ham on the table.
The production team’s attention to detail was not lost on this writer/artist/self-styled food historian and stylist in yet another food scene. The general and Capt. Eduardo Rusca (played by Archie Alemania) help themselves to a merienda in the commandeered railway manager’s office. To the uninitiated, it looks like an afternoon snack of tea and cookies. I sensed something “off” or different on the table, and it bothered me no end. The setting was that of an English high tea service, complete with bone china teapot, cups, saucers and the iconic British two-tiered mini sandwiches server — which couldn’t have been relics from the British tow-year incursion to Manila in 1762. As Col. Paco Roman (Joem Bascon) is about to leave the room, he drops a punchline — “Mas masarap ang ensaimada natin diyan!” (Our ensaimadas are better than those!) — adding further to my puzzlement. So, it wasn’t ensaimada the kapitan dipped in his cup of tsokolate, as I had wrongly assumed.
While writing this article, I got to connect with Ria Limjap, the movie’s associate producer and marketing coordinator. She provided a lot of the missing links, saying their researchers mainly based the movie’s story on the book The Rise and Fall of Antonio Luna by Dr. Vivencio R. Jose, which mentions the incident with the English station manager, with the railway system being operated by a British company during that period. The set designers played on that, adorning his office with Queen Victoria’s portrait hanging on the wall and on top of his desk, and for the merienda/high tea scene, they opted to use scones to be consistent with the British theme. Director Tarog also asked Archie to dip the scone into the tea, in the manner that Filipinos like to dip their pandesal in coffee, or ensaimada in tsokolate.
WHAT WE NEED: MORE ‘YABANG’
Fast forward to the present on another frontline. The Negros Trade Fair was held last week at the Glorietta Lifestyle Center, Makati City. It was touted as the longest regional trade fair in the country held yearly for the past 30 years. On its opening Governor’s Night reception, Ilonggo writer Teddy Montelibano posted on Facebook photos of the participating chefs tracing their roots from Negros (Occidental) — Margarita Forés, Manny Torrejon, JP Anglo, Fern Aracama, Tony Boy Escalante and Cyrille Soenen (though a Frenchman, he is married to Anna Ascalon from Silay) with a caption proclaiming that “THE BEST (caps by Teddy) cooks in this country are those whose origins are from Negros. Non-debatable yan ha?”
The naughty Teddy tagged me and my wife Mary Ann, as if to goad us for some reaction. It elicited some comments, waiting with bated breath for me to take the bait, and perhaps wishing for a heated verbal dual, in the fashion of the Luna-Buencamino spats in the movie above. Well, to their disappointment I did not respond; I just let it pass. I just hope, though, that my silence wasn’t misconstrued as cowardice for the hamon/challenge, nor being a traidor/traitor to my tribe (Kapampangans) if I agreed with his proclamation.
Well, to some extent, I do agree with my friend Teddy in declaring the abovementioned Negrense chefs as, indeed, the best chefs in the country — the best chefs to cook Negrense cuisine, that is. It’s exactly what we need, actually: more of the bravura or yabang (boasting/cockiness) of the general, the confidence, the pride in our own, and not the hiya or shame mentioned in the Washington Post article. Who else, but we, should trumpet to the world how good our cuisine and chefs are, no matter what region of the country they come from?
I’ve had my own 15-minute fame when I declared to Anthony Bourdain in 2008: “One cannot be a good Filipino without being a good Kapampangan first” (or an Ilocano, Bicolano, Cebuano, etc., for that matter); that’s the creed of the Center for Kapampangan Studies, Holy Angel University, of my hometown Angeles City.
The phenomenal rise in popularity of the Ilocano bagnet and empanada, Pampango sisig and tocino, Ilonggo chicken inasal and batchoy, Cebu’s boneless lechon, Cagayan de Oro’s sinuglaw, or Davao’s grilled tuna jaws, into the national culinary landscape is a good illustration of how the best, or at least the most popular, regional cuisine actually takes part in weaving the quilt that makes up Filipino cuisine as a cohesive whole.
The emergence of chef and/or regional-centered Filipino restaurants is clear proof that the Filipino diner has come of age. He goes out with an open mind and palate. There has been a rediscovery, a renaissance if you will, and appreciation of the diversity of our culture and cuisines.
It’s no coincidence that the DOT’s “It’s More Fun in the Philippines” logo has the Philippine map woven like our tightly-knit banig (mat), with its multi-colored mosaic representing the different regions/cultures/cuisines that make up our nation.
If we were our own worst critics before, we are our best ambassadors today, the Fil-Ams included. Filipinos have finally found pride in sariling atin. Bayan o sarili? Sarili o bayan?
The resounding success of the Madrid Fusión Manila held last April of this year delivered the message loud and clear, not only to the Spaniards but to the whole world! We rose above divisiveness (sarili/self) and showed the world what we (bayan/nation) have to offer. And yet, initially, it was this sarili/self that was highlighted in each of the three days of the culinary conference — Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao, each one given a day to showcase the best it has to offer, and it wowed the palates of the 1,400 foreign and Filipino delegates. There was cooperation, and most importantly, there was mutual respect of our differences. There was unity in diversity. It was from this heap that the bayan/national cuisine emerged, and conquered the world by storm!
But, just as we’ve dug securely into our trenches, an invasion of some sort has been silently creeping into our shores like the red tide — the foreign restaurant brands sprouting in our midst, brought in by Filipino businessmen, no less. Kalayaan/freedom o negosyo/business? And the struggle goes on. Photos by CLAUDE TAYAG
